SugarLoaf Heist
by Day of Diana
Summary: Hermione craves a sugar rush. Two lascivious twins have just the treat she desires to satisfy her needs. FredxHermionexGeorge. Written for the Feb. 2011 Twin Exchange Challenge.


_Hey there, everyone who decided to read this crazy little one-shot! I'm a FredxHermionexGeorge fan. Crazy crack pairing, you say? Well, to that I say... you're absolutely right! Kudos... figure that out all on your own? Anyway, this was written for the monthly __**Twin Exchange**__ fanfic writing challenge! Since the topic was "Love In Unusual Places" I thought, why not, I'll write about "Love In Unusual Pairings Too". Don't get me wrong. This really is my OTP of HP and I'll do anything to defend it. Flame it? Fav it? Leave your opinions in the reviews! _

_Month and Year of the Challenge: _**February 2011**

_[Crack/Secret Fantasy] Pairing of the Challenge: _**FredxHermionexGeorge with a smidge of twincest. Sorry, but it's only for show.**

_Love In Unusual Places Location: _**Honeyduke's Basement. Not the actual aboveground store. The basement. Hoo yeah. Kinky **_**and**_** freaky. **

_Provider of Place: _**The author under the pseudonym **xoxFiFixox**. I'm dedicating this to you. Seriously. *huggle***** Um... yeah. But if you don't like FredxHermionexGeorge, please accept my sincerest apologies. :B**

_Summary: _**Hermione craves a sugar rush. Two lascivious twins have just the treat she desires to satisfy her needs. FredxHermionexGeorge. Written for the Feb. 2011 **_**Twin Exchange **_**Challenge.**

**Warning: Implied underage sex. To those of you who yell, "Nay verily!" to that sort of stuff, skip over it!**

**DISCLAIMER: By the Power of Grey Skull, I do not own the world of HP or the sexy characters mentioned in this fic! **

O/O

"Miss Granger? A minute, if you please?"

It was Friday afternoon. A typical Friday afternoon. No one else would say it had been abnormal in the least. True, a few things had gone a bit awry in the second classroom down the seventh hallway on the third flight of stairs in the first half-hour of class, but that problem had resolved itself when Neville excused himself to dash to Madame Pomfrey's office after a sickly green tentacle had poked its way out of his hand and started tapping on various' students' shoulders. Hermione, being Hermione, had been much too concerned with her own transfiguration of a tiny invisible octopus into a cuttlefish to be much bothered by her partner's abrupt disappearance from her side. Now, as her chocolate eyes met with Professor McGongagall's stern icy grey ones, she wondered if she should have paid more attention to Neville and his exasperating inaptitude for devilishly tricky magic.

"Miss Granger, would you come up to my desk?"

Oh... yes. Yes, she shouldn't have ignored Neville's squeaks for aide as he battled uselessly with his own tiny octopus, which, after curling gleefully around his short, stubby wand, had somehow managed to integrate itself into Neville's skin. Hopefully not permanently.

Glancing at Harry and Ron, who had at least managed to rid their octopi of legs, Hermione said, "See you at lunch," and made her way through the jumbled desks and chairs to her Professor's ancient oaken bench. She heard both boys scramble to pack their things in their bags and practically sprint from the classroom. Good to know her friends always backed her up when she was in potential hot water.

She approached Professor McGonagall's desk cautiously and stood before it, clutching some books to her chest while the rest rubbed against her back. Her book bag... when had it gotten so heavy?

The Professor surveyed her as a hawk might watch a mouse before swooping and gobbling it up. Oh, no, that wasn't right... Professor McGonagall was a cat as an animagus, so a better way to describe it might be: The Professor looked at Hermione as a ravenous tom-cat might size up his dinner. Though the switching of predators in the imagery did little to no good for Hermione's nerves, she was glad to have corrected herself.

"Miss Granger-"

"I'm so sorry, Professor McGonagall! I should've helped Neville more, he was my partner-I wasn't, I didn't- are you going to take points off of my cuttlefish because-" Amid gasping and choking and dumping her books on the teacher's desk to wipe her eyes, Hermione didn't catch the look of bemusement on her Professor's face until after she had calmed down a little bit. Actually, to be clearer: quite a bit. And afterwards, when all was explained, she just felt silly about it all and avoided Professor McGonagall's eyes for weeks. Though she kept up her excellent marks.

"No, no, Miss Granger. Even though you were his partner this time around, it's going to take a lot more than your (or even my) help to bring up Mr. Longbottom's capacity for Transfiguration. What I wanted to tell you was this," Professor McGonagall settled her square glasses on the tip of her nose and pulled out a fancy-looking parchment document, complete with wax seal. "Or maybe it is better to say, show you this. I trust you are aware that there is a visit to the village of Hogsmeade available for this Sunday, the 24th of January, for students?"

Hermione was puzzled by this unexpected topic, but replied instantly, "Yes. I'm planning to go."

Professor McGonagall sighed and folded the document she held into thirds, then handed it to Hermione. Hermione took it, unsure of what it was.

"Professor McGonagall, what is this?"

The Professor looked faintly perturbed. "Your parents owled to Professor Dumbledore in early January saying that they did not want their daughter to go on any more outings outside of Hogwarts grounds. The paper is an official, signed and sealed document expressly stating you are forbidden from the following areas around Hogwarts."

Hermione gaped openly at her Professor, which was a very rude thing to do, so she closed her mouth almost immediately after opening it. "B-but, why? I... I..."

Hermione realized that her Professor would probably know nothing of her family's decisions to do such an unjust thing, so she stopped stuttering, thanked her Professor, and, holding the document tightly in one fist while she gathered up her dropped books in her arms, she turned to go to lunch. But she was prevented from running angrily down the hallway by Professor McGonagall's soft 'ahem'.

"Miss Granger, I do not mean to pry into family matters, but perhaps I can enlighten you on your unfortunate situation. Your parents' number one concern is their daughter's safety. That was the number one reason, in their letter to the Headmaster, on why they thought they should ground you here in Hogwarts,"

Hermione, without consciously meaning to, tilted her head to the side. She turned halfway around to listen intently to the rest of Professor McGonagall's words.

"Your parents then named the cause of unrest in their minds, the person who they thought could and would do untold harm to you if he could ever get his hands on you, and your friends Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley. Keep in mind that this person is still considered, by the majority of the wizarding public, to be an unwanted criminal of the dark days of You-Know-Who, and he is still being searched for by the top Aurors of our time. It is rumored now that he is somewhere around this part of Scotland and that he is still looking for Mr. Potter, which, as your parents correctly assess, could be of grave danger to you as you are firmly connected to him by bonds of friendship. Miss Granger, you're the brightest witch of your age, but that doesn't stop your family from worrying about you if they know you are somehow in harm's way, literally."

"I see," Hermione said, now facing her Professor again. "My parents think that... that man... could be hiding out near here and come after me to get to Harry. Thank you, Professor McGonagall."

"Not at all, Miss Granger. And please remind Mr. Weasley that he has an overdue essay."

"Yes, Professor McGonagall."

When Hermione bumped into Draco Malfoy right outside the classroom, (he was standing oddly close to the classroom door), she knew why Professor McGonagall hadn't just scolded her outright for not confiding in her parents that Sirius Black was a good man and meant no danger to anyone, wizard or muggle. Well, except Peter Pettigrew and the Death Eaters and the whole entire dark side and all that. But those people were the few exceptions.

O/O

"So, you can't come to Hogsmeade with us this weekend because you've been banned from going outside of Hogwarts grounds..."

"...because you haven't told your parents that a certain mass-murderer, who has been ALL OVER the _Daily Prophet_ lately, is a nice guy who just thinks wistfully too much?"

Hermione rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms. "You two have been broken records since lunch. Would you just leave me alone so I can concentrate on this essay?"

It was around 8 o'clock at night in the Gryffindor common room. As per usual, Harry, Ron and Hermione had snagged three of their favorite plushy chairs by the fireplace to complete homework and study for school the next day. As not per usual, Harry and Ron were still going on about Hermione not being able to join them on one of the first Hogsmeade outings of the year. Harry in particular had been furious that Hermione had not told her parents what a great guy Sirius was, and he had stopped talking to her for a few hours but then had started going off at her in 'Harry-rant-mode' whenever she as much sighed. Hermione tolerated his outbursts at first, because he had deep ties to Sirius and probably couldn't bear the thought of anyone, especially his best friend, not being forthcoming to anyone else about Sirius's true nature, especially his best friend's own _parents_. But then Ron had started up too, and both of them had alternated shunning her in classes to waving their hands around aimlessly, angrily spitting out things like, "How could you?" and "Why didn't you tell them?" to the point where she was absolutely bursting with boiling frustration.

Then Ron proverbially broke the camel's back with the last straw. "I mean, come on, Hermione! Even my family knows about Sirius now!"

This information apparently surprised Harry, because he stopped glaring at Hermione to fix a bewildered stare at Ron, but Hermione wasn't concerned with who knew what or what knew who right now. Because her internal tolerative peace man had just snapped his white flag in half and loaded his bazooka with a ten-round of arguments.

She stood right up, throwing her quill down to her half-finished Potions homework (in retrospect, this was a silly thing to do, because the quill just floated down gently, no more a symbol of ire than a olive branch a symbol of war) and swung her body around to Ron's slouching form, upside-down on the squishy purple chair. She marched right over to him, placed her hands firmly on her hips, and gave him her mightiest glower. Ron promptly flushed and righted himself, smiling nervously. Hermione, uncertain for a moment as to why Ron had suddenly decided to sit upright in the chair, realized that he had possibly seen up her skirt, and so an angry blush bloomed on her cheeks to complement her scowl.

"Why you-!"

"I didn't see anything! Honest! I didn't want to, either, that's why I-"

Hermione contained her scream, as other people in the common room were innocents and did not deserve to have their eardrums split open. Instead, with trembling hands, she opened her mouth as wide as it could go, shut it, and roughly shook her head hard, brown curls bouncing in all directions. Then she turned and with surprising speed packed up her assignments and books, and fled up the stairs to the girl's dormitory where she stayed for the rest of the evening.

O/O

Hermione refused to speak to Ron and Harry for the rest of the week, and they didn't come after her to seek her company either. She spent most of the passing days helping Neville with anything except Herbology, and the rest of the time studying her heart out.

One afternoon, most likely the 2nd of February, she noticed that her stash of Sugar Quills, her absolute favorite Honeyduke's candy, was dwindling rapidly and nearly gone. She loved Sugar Quills. Her stash of Chocolate Cauldrons, Fizzing Wizzbees and Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans she could go without, but Sugar Quills? No way. She wouldn't last a month without serious withdrawal. Possibly death. Lucky for her, because now that she was on the verge of breaking up with Harry and Ron and banned from Hogsmeade for the forseeable future, she could go into Sugar Quills withdrawal mode at any moment and not have the sweet to calm herself. Oh, how terrible that would be! Maybe she could get someone else to buy Sugar Quills for her on the next trip to Hogsmeade, the 7th? Or order them from the paper? But no... the only people she trusted to select Sugar Quills for her were Harry and/or Ron, and she didn't know if any other store boasting perfect Sugar Quills had the same delicate, melt-in-your-mouth sweet heavenly deliciousness quality Honeyduke's Sugar Quills had. In fact, hadn't she bought a couple in Diagon Alley that were perfectly awful? So she had, she remembered that! Ew, gross.

With Harry and Ron not speaking to her, and her paranoid unwillingness to place her trust in other classmates or other stores for her Sugar Quills, she determined to keep steady and rehabilitate herself from the heady candy, the urgent need to lick and tease out its tantalizing, sugary flavor, the rush of endorphins making her emotions calm and her stomach happy. No, no! Save this last bit of Sugar Quill, just the stem, the last 5 centimeters of this last Sugar Quill must last her until the end of June!

On the 4th of February, her iron will crumbled away into black dust, and she drew out those last 5 centimeters of the last Sugar Quill from 8 o'clock to Midnight. The witching hour. And when she heard the grandfather clock chime the twelfth hour softly from the corner of her room, she swallowed the last centimeter of the last Sugar Quill, along with her steadfast resolve. She was an addict, and she needed help. Help to get more of those impossibly delectable Sugar Quills.

"So," Hermione whispered into her pillow, grinning, "I shall make-up with Harry and Ron in the morning."

Sliding her tongue along her teeth to catch any remaining granules of sugar, Hermione flipped over to her other side and let herself fall into her dreams.

O/O

It turns out that Harry, Ron, and Hermione had very similar ideas the next morning. Finding themselves sitting beside each other at the breakfast table early on Friday, the 5th of February, they each muttered sorry to each other, with Hermione a bit amused to see Harry and Ron apologize to each other as well. Apparently, the two had had a small fight a few days ago on when they should forgive Hermione and let her back into their little group with open arms.

Since the trio had again reunited themselves, Hermione had asked if the boys could bring her a large box of Deluxe Sugar Quills, which they agreed to right away. She decided not to tell them about the small, unsettling need she had seemed to acquire for the treat. Lately, sometimes most embarrassingly in class, she had gotten an urgent craving for Sugar Quills, sometimes so much so that she would have to excuse herself and run down to the Hogwarts kitchens to borrow a cube or two of sugar. Never mind that the house elves were enslaved there, she needed sugar! Sadly, and frustratingly to Hermione, the Hogwarts kitchens did not supply Sugar Quills, as Professor Dumbledore for some reason did not see fit for the candy to reside in the kitchens. Hermione rather suspected that the Headmaster was a recovering Sugar Quill addict as well. Given what Harry told her of Professor Dumbledore's passwords for his office, it was not a theory to eliminate.

With some days to cool down from Hermione's banishment from the surrounding areas of Hogwarts, the Sirius issue did not seem as big a deal to Harry anymore it seemed, and he did not bring it up again until Saturday night, the night before the next trip to Hogsmeade.

"Hermione," Harry began, scratching his messy black hair and subsequently rubbing ink from his hands into it, "Don't blow up at me, now, but, if I may ask, why haven't you told your parents about Sirius?"

Hermione stopped scribbling out a paragraph explaining the benefits of toad dung on one's face to look at her best friend. "Harry... I don't want you to be angry with me again when we've just recovered our friendship."

She was surprised when Harry gave her a small smile. "I won't be. I've been thinking about it, and I know, you being brilliant and sensible and all, that you must have a very good reason to not want to tell them."

Seriously? He'd been thinking about it? Poor kid. Suddenly attaining a father figure must have made him fiercely protective and careful of Sirius and Sirius's reputation, to go through a list of why Hermione would not want her parents to know Sirius on a personal level, which was hugely preferable to him being known as a mass-muggle-murderer. But had he really thought about it in depth? Of course not, Hermione answered herself. He wouldn't have had to ask the question at all, then.

"Okay, then, I'll tell you," Hermione said, tapping the end of her quill against the coffee table she was working on. "Harry, you've never seen my parents, have you?"

Harry examined the nib of his quill. Deciding it needed more ink, he dipped it into the inkwell and then let the quill rest loosely between his fingers. "I think I did once."

Hermione tried not to roll her eyes. "Okay. Once."

"I think I've seen your parents a couple more times than once," volunteered Ron, joining in the conversation and trying to draw an ouroboros below a paragraph of chicken scratch.

At this, Hermione did roll her eyes. "Alright, well, rarely. The point is, even though you two are my best friends, you've rarely seen my parents. But, Ron, both Harry and I know your family quite well. And... um..." Hermione veered the topic away from the subject of Harry's deceased relatives. But of course, Harry mentioned them anyway.

"And I know you guys would know my family if they were still alive."

Harry's eyes caught Hermione's and held them for a tense second. Then Ron hissed out something obscene and the moment of uneasiness broke. Hermione turned her head away from Harry and tried to help Ron complete his drawing. After that was sorted out, she continued.

"Right. But your families are different than mine. They're both wizarding families." Again, Hermione steered clear of specifically mentioning that Harry's family was, unfortunately

to all those involved, dead. She hoped he would allow her to do so. He appeared to. Pausing, Hermione said, "But my family comes from a long line of muggles. Until I was eleven, not one person in my family... not my parents, my grand-parents, and especially me, knew that such a wonderful world existed right underneath our noses. And my grand-parents still don't know. Since my mother and father were both only children, they put a lot of emphasis on self-worth and self-reliability. They haven't needed to tell anyone else. The wizarding world's secret, at least within my family, is only known to three people. My mother, my father, and myself."

Ron and Harry were both looking at Hermione at this moment, but she was staring into the crackling fire. In the four years of knowing her, her best friends had only ever sought Hermione, not her family. They never needed to know what her family was like, not because they didn't care, but because they didn't need to. Perhaps they had sensed her reluctance, even back then, that she did not want to share her family life with them. But Harry asked now because there was a very obvious disconnect between her life here and her life at home, and he was concerned about her. And perhaps, too, because he felt his godfather was somehow being threatened by her. Which, if Hermione put it in Harry's perspective, she was. Not telling her parents about the real identity of Sirius Black was like openly distrusting the man by herself. She needed to reassure him.

"The Ministry messenger, when he came to our house, explained that it would take many years for my parents to get used to the idea of a magical world living around them. And, to avoid unnecessary complications, we could only tell people we felt we could absolutely trust and felt the dire need to tell, in case of emergencies and other situations. My parents, I think, accepted the existence of the wizarding world with some difficulty, but they eventually trusted in it. And, to prevent strained relations between the Ministry of Magic and our family, we decided to keep the 'secret' to ourselves."

Harry and Ron had stopped fiddling with whatever they had been working on in the last ten minutes. This was a part of Hermione they had never heard or seen before. Thankfully, they were being quiet with their comments and questions until the end of Hermione's talk. Hermione paused again to catch her breath and think of what else she wanted to tell them about her life with her muggle parents. She also sensed Ginny Weasley, who had been reading on a nearby couch, listening to her. She and Ginny got along quite nicely, but she found that she was a bit annoyed with the younger girl eavesdropping on the trio. Why not just openly join the talk? Why hide behind a book?

"Over the past four years, except for the holidays, my parents and I have not really spoken to each other. I don't really receive much mail from them; they have their occupations as dentists to worry about and I think they've adopted a new cat, mostly to keep Crookshanks company while we're away for holidays. So, as you can gather from the picture I've painted, we do not speak at all about my time in the wizarding world. I quickly assimilate back into the muggle daughter they have. It's not always easy to do, but I don't mind it. I'm not envious of wizarding families where the magic is all out in the open and everyone knows about it. I think, right from the minute the Ministry messenger knocked on our door, my family and I have retained an unspoken contract to keep the safe, known non-magical world separated from the potentially dangerous, unknown magical world. I want my parents to be happy. If they want to live their lives without or barely acknowledging the wizarding world, I can live with that."

Of course, Hermione did not know that in the years and years to come (but she could predict), her parents would gradually accept everything that had to do with this world and then combine the two places, muggle and wizarding, together. Especially when Hermione eventually married and gave birth to their grandchildren. Oh yes. A giant leap forward would come in her parents' understanding of her life here then.

There was a comfortable silence following her explanation, and then Harry asked the one question Hermione was still mulling over in her mind. "But then how would they know Sirius is... what the public _thinks_ he is... if they don't even take an interest in this world?"

"That," Hermione said, "is my question, too. But if they've recently taken an active interest in the goings-on here, I've heard nothing of it from them personally. And if they have, I'm still angry at them for taking away privileges most Hogwarts students have."

Snuggling into her down blankets later that night, Hermione thought that, surprisingly, she felt a lot better having confessed her family situation to Ron and Harry. Even if they hadn't gone through it personally (well, she took that back, Harry certainly had), they knew where she was coming from. Some other students had been banned from Hogsmeade too, and though they pleaded with their parents, their mothers and fathers hadn't budged an inch on the subject and were demanding that the whole school shut down the visits. But if Hermione explained to her parents everything that had gone on in the magical world over the last three and a half years of her life, and especially in the last year and a half of her life, she could be putting an innocent man in danger, as well as the many brave souls who protected him. For who knew if her parents were being watched? Also, who knew who her parents talked to or subscribed to to get information about this place? This wonderful, magical world? Her life from early autumn until the middle of the summer? Nay, it was her life year-round! She didn't stop living in one dimension and transport to the other one free from memories and knowledge and...

Hermione bit her lip. But there was nothing she could do contradict her parents' opinion of Sirius Black now, no matter how faulty it was. And even if she explained that Harry's godfather's secret was to be kept in the utmost confidence, would her _parents_ be safe with that information? Hmmm. And was telling a very important piece of information to her parents in order for them to change their minds so that she could have personal freedom for the rest of the year, a good enough reason to share it? She had a lot of puzzling to do. She would pronounce her decision in the morning.

O/O

The 7th of February arrived as anyone might expect, shining cheerfully through the gauzy curtains drawn around the windows in the Gryffindor Tower. Hermione woke up as usual, went through her morning routine as usual, and showed up for breakfast as usual. She and Harry and Ron ate what they normally ate, and departed the table at the normal time. After walking around the grounds for a little while, enjoying the cool morning air and sunshine, Hermione told them she was not going to tell her parents about Sirius, listing all of her sensible reasons. Harry and Ron agreed with her decision and left it at that.

At around 11 o'clock, Harry and Ron were called to the group assembly at the door to leave for Hogsmeade. Hermione went down with them to the large entryway doors that would let her friends out into the world. She bid them adieu, and, after sad parting glances and murmurs of sorrow and promises of Sugar Quills upon their return, they left with other happily chatting students. Hermione was left alone to wander back to the library, where the three of them had been studying. Well, Hermione had been studying... Ron and Harry had been playing a quiet game of muggle cards, which Ron pronounced idiotic and yet at the same time strangely addicting.

Hermione was sitting at her usual desk reading something about the Aries constellation when she heard a snort of muffled laughter coming from behind the bookshelves she was sitting near. Pausing in her reading, she looked up and around for the sources of the noise, but saw nothing. She continued reading.

Then she felt a hand clasp her shoulder and jumped in fright, heavy astronomy book falling to the table with a loud thwump. Another hand landed on her other shoulder just as a frown was forming on her face. She twisted around to see who dared to interrupt her studies and let out a groan of exasperation when she saw identical faces gracing her with ear to ear grins.

"Well well well! If it isn't Miss Hermione Granger," started one of the twins, either Fred or George. For there were no other twins as red-haired, cheeky-tongued or identical-looking in the whole history of Hogwarts. Though, as Hermione read in _Hogwarts: A History_, the Foxxi twins Adam and Bogart (they were the primary architects of Hogwarts) came close.

"I'll be damned! It isn't like Miss Granger to be sequestered in the library, no it isn't! What do you think has come over her, Fred?"

"A sudden, unprovoked case of studiousness?"

"Do you think it's contagious?"

"Say it ain't so!"

"Should we get her to Madame Pomfrey?"

"Or should we get her another case of back-breaking books?"

Both twins let her go and pretended to swoon, holding each other's hands to their foreheads as though they were checking each other's temperature. Hermione watched them for a moment, bemused but not angry with their antics. She felt a bit relieved, if she was to be truly honest with herself. Throwing herself into her studies whenever her friends took off probably wasn't the healthiest habit in the world. She did need a bit of human contact every now and then.

"Are you two done? You're making fools of yourselves."

Fred and George straightened up and put their hands on their hips, affecting pouty expressions.

"Fools? Of ourselves? We'd best be careful, then, we wouldn't want anyone catching us acting like fools," said Fred, now clasping his hands together and putting them close to his cheek.

"Certainly not! We are the complete opposite of such dread creatures! Why, if we even see such a one, we pull off our gloves and slap it right in the face!" George added, miming pulling off a glove and swatting it in the direction of his brother's face.

"Yay verily!" Fred replied to George's statement, pretending to pull off a glove of his own and shoving it into his twin's face as well.

Hermione watched as they shook invisible gloves at each other for a moment or two before growing a little bored and returning to her astronomy book. As soon as she lifted the heavy text from the table, however, it was yanked out of her hands and tossed onto another table, where it frightened a poor little first-year off of his chair.

"Hey!" Hermione turned again to Fred and George, who were innocently whistling. Annoyed, Hermione decided to ask them why they had picked her as their first customer of the day to exasperate.

"What the heck are you doing in the library anyway? Looking for spitball material?"

Fred and George considered her for a moment, then one looked to the other and they both nodded. Hermione watched impatiently as they strolled leisurely to the other side of the table and sat down. Fred actually put his feet up, a dangerous thing to do, since Hermione always sat as close as she could to the librarian's desk. Luckily for the twin pranksters, Madame Pince was lecturing the frightened first-year a few tables over and would be quite busy for another half-hour.

George held Hermione's stare for at least a minute before looking to his brother, who nodded. George began, "We're actually here to look up cooking books. Do you know what section that is? We can't seem to find it."

Hermione was skeptical to say the least. And amused to say the most. Cooking books? What a lame cover. "So... you're not here to look for pranking victims?"

"Why does everyone always assume that we're looking for people to pull pranks on while we're in the library?" Fred burst out, lowering his feet from the table. He did not look happy, and George mimicked his brother's tightly drawn mouth exactly.

"Given your past history, I'm surprised that Madame Pince hasn't banned you guys from the library yet." Hermione smiled. This gave the twins pause for thought.

"She's tried... definitely," admitted Fred.

"But old man Dumbledore has a great sense of humor," finished George. The brothers shared a smirk between themselves and turned back to Hermione.

"But, and this isn't a regular word of our vocabulary," said Fred.

"I don't think it's even part of our vernacular," interrupted George.

"...Yes, it isn't, but, ugh, seriously, we do need to find these cooking books and you being here all ready to help is such a great gift from Merlin." Fred smiled at Hermione, and George copied his expression. They both leaned forward with expectant faces.

Hermione looked from one cheshire cat smile to the other, waffling about her answer. It would be alright to help them if they weren't going to do anything harmful with the cooking book information... and after all, what the heck were they going to do with recipes? Recipes... oh crap!

"Well... what's your plan?" asked Hermione, suspicious.

"Plan? What ever do you mean by that?" George said by way of answer, oil in his voice and mock confusion on his face. Fred expertly molded his face to reflect his brother's.

Hermione shook her head and gave them a disgusted look. "I'm not stupid, I know you're going to use the recipes to make something that will go into a prank!"

The twins looked at each other again. They did that a lot. Their twin telepathic powers must not work very well if they had to confer by facial expression.

"Why would you assume something like that?" Fred asked her, honey and oil added to his voice. "We just wanted to... to... bake a cake for Ginny's birthday! There! I said it!"

Fred buried his face unexpectedly into his arms, and George moved immediately to comfort him.

"See what you do to people in your callousness, Granger!" George angrily derided her while patting his twin's heaving shoulders. Hermione was not amused. Clearly the twins needed more acting lessons than they thought.

"Sorry, but if you can't tell me what you really plan to do with a cooking book, I refuse to help you," Hermione bit out. Gathering her things, she prepared to stomp off to the common room when Fred and George called to her.

"Wait!" they both cried in unison, standing up and pushing her back into her seat. Fred lifted her book bag out of her hands and slung it over his shoulder. Then they both sat back down. Hermione was now pissed off.

"Give me back my things or I'll call Madame Pince over here," Hermione said to them, irritated. Forget socializing! These two could easily turn her off from people for a while.

"Oh, you wouldn't," Fred said, sarcasm dripping thickly from his words.

George was a little more mature when he spoke next, "We'll let you get back to your precious books after you show us where the cooking section is."

"No," Hermione spat, "I already told you that I don't want to assist you if it's for a prank."

Fred and George looked exasperated. "And we already told you that it's not for a prank, it's to bake a cake for our little sister."

"I don't believe you."

"How can you not believe us?"

"Because you could just as easily ask for a cake from the Hogwarts Kitchens. You don't need to bake an entire cake yourselves!"

"We want it to be special, for it to be made by us, not strangers who wouldn't put love in every bite."

Hermione snorted. "Love in every bite?"

Fred and George sat back and nodded. "Love in every bite."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Right, love in every bite. Who are you, Cupid? Ginny would prefer an edible cake, I think."

Fred and George looked aghast. "How dare you! We can bake just as well as anyone!"

"Yeah, and we do love our sister! Platonically! Very much!"

Fred and Hermione stared at George, who had said that last bit. He blushed under the scrutiny.

Fred looked back to Hermione. "Yeah, what George said. So, if you aren't going to help us, we'll just ask someone else. Good day to you, Granger." Fred drawled, a small amount of anger still present in his face and voice.

He gave her back her book bag and motioned George towards a sixth year who they knew by class. Hermione watched them leave. Strange, how they had come to her first instead of their classmate. Strange too how they went about asking for her help. They had never asked her for so much as a carrot stick before. Granted, Fred, George and Hermione were not a harmonious trio and didn't get along very well. She didn't like the way they treated people who were outside their own little world, even their close friends and family. There was something slightly sinister in the way they mimicked each other so perfectly and did everything almost exactly the same way. Hermione even thought that it was kind of unhealthy, the way those two were intertwined. After all, she never saw one without the other. And she wondered, as she quietly left the library, if they were even separate people.

Walking back to the common room, Hermione's thoughts were scattered, breaking off of each other and floating around in tiny pieces, wisps. She vaguely caught herself thinking of George's arms around Fred as he was faking sobbing. Wasn't it amazing, she thought to herself, that people like Fred and George existed? The way they existed within each other, like they could never be apart?

As much as Hermione tended to disagree with and dislike Ron's older twin siblings, she found something exciting about their airs as well. They were people she didn't really know, but... did she want to get to know them? Their energy was strange to her.

"Love in every bite, they insisted... love in every bite... hickies?" Hermione surprised herself when she uttered that thought aloud. "Oh, Merlin no. What the hell am I talking about?"

Shuddering and losing a few loose books in the process, she scooped them up and continued climbing the staircases to Gryffindor Tower, once again to be alone with her studies.

O/O

When Harry and Ron returned from Hogsmeade about the same time as dinner, they regretted to inform her that they had forgotten her Sugar Quills. They explained to her that they had caught up with some other students and had never made it down to Honeyduke's, instead having a small party at Three Broomsticks, where a local couple was having a baby shower.

Hermione was slightly annoyed that her friends didn't bring back any Sugar Quills for her. No, scratch that, she was having serious withdrawal symptoms and was furious. But she kept her temper in check, not wanting another split-up. She'd just have to wait for another Hogsmeade trip. In a month! Oh, Merlin's deep fried pants, why was she suffering so?

As they settled to eat at the Gryffindor table, Harry and Ron recounted their day.

"Though why they were having a baby shower in a tavern is completely ludicrous," Harry said, tucking into his steak-and-kidney pie. "I mean, the mother wasn't drinking anything, but her husband was lapping it up."

"It was rip-roaring fun, was what it was, Hermione!" Ron got out through slurps of pumpkin soup. "All these games were so... what'dya call them, Harry?"

"Privately, I called them stupid, but what I said was 'novel'" Harry shook his head and took a sip of pumpkin juice.

"Ah, yeah, 'novel'! You shoulda been there, 'mione. Was great times, that was," Ron said.

Hermione thought while cutting up her prime ribs. She tried not to imagine the meaty hunk as on large, delicate sugary quill. "Yes, hmmm... Ron?"

"Yerf?"

"When's Ginny's birthday?"

Ron swallowed the last drop of soup and reached for a platter of dumplings. "I dunno... February something. Yeah, maybe."

"February? Are you sure?" Hermione asked, placing her napkin on her lap, which was not something she normally forgot to do.

Ron thought. "No... uh. Why don't you just ask her? What, are you planning to give her a present?"

Hermione laughed lightly to conceal her bewilderment that Ron didn't know his own sister's birthday. "Never mind. Hey, let's practice for the Charms exam after dinner."

"You got it, 'mione." Ron said, turning his attention back to his dumplings.

"Yeah, sure, I could use some help with that one charm, you know, the winding snake one?" said Harry, also going back to his food.

"I'd be happy to help you, Harry," Hermione assured him.

After dinner, the trio found an empty classroom to practice in. After about an two hours, they high-tailed it back to the common room, forgetting that on school nights they had to be back in by 9:30 p.m., which a lot of students, especially those in the higher years, disagreed with.

While Harry and Ron did unfinished homework, Hermione read her astronomy textbook, helping her friends whenever they proclaimed to have difficulty understanding something or other. By this time of night, her stomach was still satisfied from dinner but her mind was begging her for a taste of sugar. She knew that the Hogwarts Kitchens wouldn't be open again until 5 o'clock in the morning, so she couldn't even calm her withdrawal with sugar cubes. Her head was starting to ache, but Hermione fought it.

At around 10:30 p.m., Harry and Ron said goodnight to Hermione, who was finishing up the last chapter in the astronomy text. She had promised herself that she would go upstairs to bed when she finished it, but then she realized that she hadn't been writing her notes for at least ten pages. Cursing her foggy and aching brain, she flipped back to the page where she had stopped taking notes and started all over again. She was nothing if not dedicated to her schoolwork.

When she could hear the eleventh hour chiming (who knows from where), she had just about finished. Pushing herself a little more couldn't hurt. She just had to finish this one last page...

The fire was crackling low in the gate, almost burnt out for the evening. Since it was Sunday night, there were no other people in the common room. It wasn't strange, and Hermione didn't feel the chill of loneliness as she completed her notes and set them down to dry for about a minute before folding them into her book bag and going up to her room to sleep. Then, she heard a noise. A whispered voice. It was quickly joined by another voice, speaking softly. She thought she heard a spout of laughter before the first voice shushed it. Turning around, she spied shadows in the entryway of the stairwell that led up to the boy's dormitories. Two tall, gangly boys came around the corner and for once she was not shocked by the sight of Fred and George.

They were leaning conspiratorially close together, and their arms were linked in each others'. She could see, oddly, that they were each carrying black sacks and moving swiftly across the room, half out of sight but still close enough to her that she could make out their faces by the light of the dying fire. It wasn't strange that she did see them, for she often heard them when they snuck down to the common room late at night, but it was odd that they didn't see her, sitting as though paralyzed in the squishy purple armchair. Perhaps they were too intent on their task, whatever it was.

She was just about to ask them what the heck they were doing down here at this hour, when to her mild surprise and curiousity, either Fred or George (probably George) swung open the portrait hole and bowed to his twin, holding out his palm to the hole in a 'do go first' gesture. The other twin bowed back and started to climb into the hole, but then glanced in Hermione's direction for just a second.

Hermione froze. She knew that the twin couldn't see her because of the dim lighting, but then he turned away and Hermione exhaled quietly. She didn't know what had come over her, but suddenly she felt unreasonably frightened. Then she saw something that would have scared her even more had she not been exhausted and pained from sugar withdrawal.

The twin who was inside of the portrait hole caught his brother's face in his fingers, and then quickly pulled it close to his own. Their lips met.

Hermione gaped.

The twin who had been waiting to get inside of the portrait hole slowly pulled his face away from his brother's, though not before pressing his mouth deeper on his twin's. Then the first twin was through the portrait hole, with the second following closely behind. The portal closed.

And Hermione sat, dumbstruck.

O/O

After a good five minutes, Hermione forcefully shook her head and pulled herself out of her stupor. She packed all of her things into her bag and headed back to her dormitory room.

As she climbed the stairs, her mind started racing. Had she really seen what she thought she had seen? Fred and George... doing that? This was... this is... Hermione tried to calm herself down. She tried to ignore the thoughts which were frantically skipping around her head. She had imagined it, she was hallucinating, yeah, that's it. Those two couldn't possibly... it wasn't possible! It was so... unexpected, so indescribably gross... so taboo! One of the number one taboos of the wizarding and muggle world! Oh Merlin's hat in heaven... was she responsible for what she had seen? Did she have to... no... calm down. This is ridiculous. She didn't have to do anything. It was a brotherly kiss. Brotherly love. Brother to brother. Love in every bite... hickies? Oh... she desperately needed a Sugar Quill.

Hermione's head ached and her heart joined her mind in a race. She deposited her things quietly into her bookbag, not wanting to wake her sleeping chamber mates. She didn't bother to pull off her clothes and instead drew the curtains around her bed, which she flopped onto after attempting to take off her shoes.

Fred and George sitting in a tree... K-I-S... No! Can't! It's too late for thoughts like that. In the morning, when everything is brighter, clearer, she will see the truth. Not tonight. Sleepy time.

Hermione rolled over and she heard a crinkling sound. Crinkle crinkle. Like silver bells.

She reached under herself and came up with a folded piece of parchment. Hadn't she put everything away? She thought. She had definitely not put a piece of parchment paper on her bed. Definitely not. What was this? Toss it to the floor. Sleepy time.

But her curiousity got the better of her, and she whispered "Lumos," to her wand, which lit the parchment she held in her hand. It was blank and old. She couldn't count the number of water stains and yellow blotches on it. And it smelled like crumbly earth and mold. She'd seen this before.

"The Marauder's Map? Why is it here?" She asked no one. No one replied.

"Hmmm... I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good," she said to it on a whim, and tapped it with her wand three times, as she had seen Harry do. Immediately, thin black lines started stretching themselves all over the paper. Inky, scrawling writing from Mssrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs welcomed her to the Marauder's Map. She supposed the welcoming was because her wand had never been used to tap into the secrets of the map, and the four boys who had made it had, surprisingly, polite manners. Or maybe it was all Moony's idea. Yeah. Very probably.

And though a little voice in the back of her mind told her not to, she opened the map and studied it. She had seen it before, but had never gotten a good chance to really look at it, as Harry was the one who directed most of the trio's forbidden outings. Also, she disproved of the map's purpose in life.

But now as she scanned everywhere from Snape's office in the dungeons (hey, Professor Snape was down there for some reason) to the Astronomy Tower (what was Professor Dumbledore doing up there?) she had to admit that this map was a very advanced and useful piece of magic. She, Harry and Ron probably wouldn't be able to create something like this until a few years later. Not that there was any need for another map of Hogwarts.

She watched a tiny dot of Mr. Filch and an even smaller dot of Mrs. Norris patrol the corridors on the fourth floor. Wow, so even animals showed up on the map? Neat.

Hermione decided to look for Crookshanks. Eyes roving around the map in search of her fluffy ginger cat, Hermione saw some other dots that interested her even more at the moment.

Fred and George's dots were moving down one of the hallways at an alarming speed. Spellbound, Hermione could only follow their dots as they raced down flights of stairs and hugged corners. They flew down to the third-floor corridor, stopping behind the statue of the one-eyed witch, presumably to rest. Then Hermione blinked and the two dots were gone.

Gone?

Hermione blinked again. The dots were still gone. What had happened? Hermione examined the area around the one-eyed witch. Then she saw it. An outlined, underground trail leading straight to Honeyduke's. Oh, Merlin. An underground tunnel leading straight to Honeyduke's. She must be dreaming. But wait. Wasn't this the exact same tunnel Harry had used last year to surprise herself and Ron in Hogsmeade? Which meant...

Hermione sat bolt-right up in her bed, scrambling with her shoes and socks and pulling her arms through her coat. Fred and George forgotten, she swung her body off her bed and ran as quietly as she could down the stairs and out the portrait hole.

She was going to get her Sugar Quills. She was going to Hogsmeade.

Practically sprinting down to the statue of the one-eyed witch halfway down the third-floor corridor, Hermione then didn't know exactly what she had to do. Pulling out the map, she saw with faint surprise and amusement a little dot of herself standing at the statue with a little speech bubble over her head containing the word, 'Dissendium'. So she copied her dot by tapping the stone hump of the witch and whispering the word herself. The hump opened quickly though creakily, and Hermione slipped inside. The hump closed by itself, and Hermione started walking, lighted wand pointed ahead of her.

The tunnel was like the pathway a worm might make through the earth, Hermione mused, glancing up at the walls, which bore carving marks, as she went. She wondered why someone would build this tunnel, and who, too. Perhaps it was the primary Hogwarts architects, the twins Adam and Bogart. Though Hermione doubted it. But... oh!

Fred and George broke back into the surface of her thoughts. They went into this tunnel, but she couldn't hear them or see them. If they had been running, then perhaps they were too far ahead of her to see or hear someone else down here too. And for that she was glad. She rather didn't want to talk to them... it would be uncomfortable for her until she sorted out just what she had seen back in the common room. Surely they weren't... but then why had they kissed? Hermione forced her thoughts onto a different topic.

The tunnel was wound around quite a bit, and the floor was most uneven. Hermione couldn't walk three steps without stumbling. She wondered how Fred and George had managed to run the whole way down, which they must have done. Perhaps they were so used to the terrain, because they had used the tunnel so many times before? For what purpose? Ack, no! Hermione again caught herself thinking about them... about the things they'd possibly done to each other. Sick. Gross. Disgusting. Ew, ick! Yet she couldn't contain herself.

At last, after maybe an hour of following this stupid, wonderful tunnel, she found herself at the end. She had not seen Fred or George, so that meant that they were far ahead of her. Good. She could sneak into Honeyduke's, get her candy, and sneak back out within minutes. Oh, sweet addiction! You will rest in peace at last!

Hermione's headache had abided and though she was tired she continued on. Climbing up a rope ladder, she pushed open the trapdoor that led to the basement of Honeyduke's.

Poking her head out and making sure she was alone, she pulled herself out and settled the tile back into its proper place. It blended in with the other tiles so well that she would probably have a hard time finding it again, so she dug around in her school robe's pockets to find something to mark the spot. Aha! Her favorite quill would do it. She put it down on the tile and moved toward the staircase, mouth salivating as she anticipated those Sugar Quills.

Opening the basement door, she found herself in the eerily quiet of Honeyduke's main room, which looked a lot bigger without the many customers that packed it in the daytime. Aisles upon aisles and displays upon displays showed every kind of candy known to wizard, but Hermione breezed past all the others to find the one sweet she truly craved: Sugar Quills. When at last she found them, she had to keep herself from moaning out loud. Quickly but quietly, she tore open a box and shoved a whole quill into her mouth, which dissolved instantly. After doing this three times, she savored her quills. Delectable, delicious, delicate and sweet. She ate an entire box of ten quills in half an hour, drawing them out so that she could enjoy them to their ultimate taste.

After she put three more boxes in her pockets (that should last her until next month!) Hermione roamed the other rows of candies and put other boxes into her pockets. Fizzing Wizzbees, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Popping Rocks, Chocolate Frogs, Licorice Wands, Chocolate Cauldrons, more Sugar Quills, Pink Popcorn Balls, and many more. Loaded down with treats and knowing she had a long trip back, Hermione calculated her total and left a good amount of galleons in Honeyduke's cash register. Patting her bulging pockets, Hermione giggled to herself on a job well done and descended into the basement. She located the secret tile and was just about to reach for her favorite quill marking the spot when she heard the door to the basement open. Oh Merlin's shiny pink boxers. She was doomed.

Hermione panicked and then, spotting a tall pile of crates, dove behind them. The person walking heavily down the stairs was probably one of the owners; Hermione knew they lived above the shop. They had heard her and had come to investigate. As long as they didn't see her quill or heard her squirming behind the crates, she was safe.

"George, what are you doing? Help me with this, will yah?"

"I'm closing the door, be patient, Fred."

Her insides turned to ice. Fred and George! How could she have forgotten them? Oh, dear Merlin in heaven... please don't let them see the quill...

She heard them walk as one down the stairs and set something heavy on the floor. She chanced a peek from a narrow slit created by two of the crates and saw George (or Fred) sit down on the object they were carrying while Fred (or George) went out of her line of vision to lift up the secret tile.

"Huh? What the hell is this?"

"What is it, twin of mine?"

Oh shit.

Fred came back where she could see him.

"It's a quill, George. A quill was on the secret tile."

"This is disturbing news, Fred."

"Indeed, George."

"What could have put the quill on the secret tile?"

"I don't think it's a 'what'. I think it's a 'who'."

"Do go on."

"I don't think I need to. You know as well as I do that there is someone in this musty little basement with us."

"I love it when you talk that way."

"This is no time for that, George."

"I'm inclined to disagree with you. I'm rather horny."

"Are you?"

"Quite."

"Well... we'll have to do something about that."

"Would you?"

"Would I?"

And before her very virgin eyes, Hermione watched with sheer excitement as Fred tackled George, throwing them both out of her sight range. "Damn," Hermione whispered to herself, "It's getting hot in here."

She crouched behind the crates, waiting to hear what the brothers were going to do to each other. She could feel her own body heating up, and she pressed hot hands to her face. She was absolutely sizzling.

After a minute, Hermione still heard nothing from the other side of the crates. She stood up, attempting to peek around them without being noticed (although that was rather silly, as they already knew someone was here) and was shocked out of her shoes when two arms clasped her on her shoulders the same way as they had hours before.

"Well well well, Miss Hermione Granger! Lovely to see you, as always."

"Charmed! A real pleasure!"

The twins then roughly turned her around and the three of them had a mini-staring contest. Eventually, the twins won, as Hermione had never been more scared or turned on in her life. And she was fourteen.

"What the hell are you doing here, Granger?"

Well, their good moods just did a one-eighty, Hermione mused.

"Do you know how dangerous it is to be down here on a night like this?"

"Not that we advocate following the rules-"

"Or follow them ourselves-"

"But there are some very dangerous men roaming around here tonight, and you could be hurt by them."

Hermione stared into the twins' deep blue eyes. She played along with their game. "And who are these dangerous men, gentlemen?" Hermione asked them.

Both twins looked at each other and at once, wild grins grew on their faces.

"Us," they replied as one.

Hermione exhaled and flung her arms around the both of them, kissing one's mouth and then the other's, dragging her fingers through their hair. After a bit of switching back and forth and sucking their faces deeply enough to produce swollen lips and hoarse voices, Fred spoke first.

"Whoa. You're really something, 'mione."

"Call me Hermione, please," Hermione begged him. She hated when Ron called her 'mione. And she didn't want to think of Ron. She wanted to think of these wonderful, devilish men who were going to bring her much more pleasure than her strange addiction to Sugar Quills ever could.

O/O

A few days after the three of them had made love, Fred and George explained to Hermione everything that had happened that night. They had been nervous about her for a long time, they were two years older than her but had kept an eye on her from the very beginning. They liked her bookwormish beauty, her dedication to learning (even though they didn't pursue her kind of knowledge: there were all different kinds of smarts) and her choice of people she hung around with and even her ugly cat, Crookshanks.

"Crookshanks isn't ugly!" Hermione had said, but they had all laughed about it.

They wanted to be with her, but they knew that it wouldn't be possible to share a girlfriend while here. People would talk, they would all develop horrible reputations. Hermione tended to agree, but when she asked them if they would still see each other in secret, they had nodded eagerly.

"Of course, of course!" Fred said enthusiastically.

"We wouldn't dream of letting you get away from us now that we finally have you," George chortled, stroking Hermione's hair.

When Hermione asked them if there was any incest going on between them, the brothers did look a bit uncomfortable about it. George spoke first.

"I... thought I was in love with Fred at one point in time. I did confess when I was thirteen that I thought I loved him in that way."

"We tried for a while. We did... things. It didn't work. After about a month, we both knew that we didn't love each other like that." Fred finished.

"But what about," Hermione said, "What about that night? What was that?"

"Oh," Fred laughed. "Yeah! I forgot about that!"

George smiled too. "We both knew you were there. We saw you about halfway across the room. And Fred had always wanted to see if a little twincest would entice you to come to us."

"Haha," Hermione grinned. "I think it worked out in your favor."

"I'm glad it did," George said.

"So what were you two doing that night anyway? And how did you get the Marauder's Map into my room?"

Fred and George glanced at each other.

"Marauder's Map?" Fred said. "We thought that you had followed us on your own."

"Stop teasing me. It had to have been you." Hermione frowned at both of them.

"No fooling, Hermione, it wasn't us." George put his hands up, a serious expression on his face. Hermione decided to believe them. Maybe it was Harry or Ron. Yeah.

"And what were you actually doing, that night? Hopefully not something illegal." Hermione said.

"Er, well, kinda. Not really, though!" Fred amended when he saw the disapproving look on Hermione's face. "We were just trading some herbs for a new product we're making."

"Product?" Hermione questioned. "Is that why you wanted me to help you find that cooking book?"

"No," George said. "We were telling the truth. The cooking book was for our sister's birthday. We really did want to bake a cake."

Hermione raised her eyebrows at the both of them. "Do you even know when Ginny's birthday is?"

Fred scratched his neck and George replied, "Haven't the foggiest. That's why we wanted to prepare the cake early in the year so that when her birthday does come up, we have something for her."

Hermione laughed. "Right. So, wanna schedule a trip to Honeyduke's Tuesday night?"

Fred and George grinned. "We were thinking a little earlier. Say, Friday night?"

Hermione sat back in her chair, smiling lazily at them. "That's tonight, boys."

"We know."

O/O

_That's all, folks! Sorry, again, about the twincest. If you're not into that, just pretend it never happened. And remember to vote for your favorite story from the February 2011 monthly _Twin Exchange Challenge_! _

_Mmmm... Sugar Quills... *drooling*_


End file.
